


Laverne's Crush?

by Futsin



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Awkward Conversations, Best Friends, Condoms, Couch Sex, Crushes, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Late Night Conversations, Making Love, Maybe It's A Mistake But Go With It, Morning After, Oral Sex, Romantic Angst, Sleepovers, Undressing, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Futsin/pseuds/Futsin
Summary: Maybe Lenny's not the only one...
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



> Happy birthday to Missy, enabler of my smutty side and the person who pushed me to get over Lenny's Crush being a heartbreaking episode by rewriting it in fluffy sexy payoff fic. Love you, Missiles!!! <3

Poor thing, she thought. Sleepin' out there just because Squiggy had wanted a lil' action for the night. There was something undignified about it, especially after how downtrodden poor Lenny had been about finding a girl that actually liked him. Laverne liked him well enough, some girls just don't seem to appreciate the fun things in life, like monster movies and baseball, and maybe one day he'd find that. But being alone, without a person to join you in bed, is no reason to go out in the street to sleep in a gutter. Least of all with a guitar slung on his arm that some bum could come steal.

Squiggy had dealt him a real low blow by kicking him out of the apartment so as some vodeo-do could take place in their apartment upstairs, leaving Laverne and by extension her roommate Shirley to cushion Lenny's fall.

"Why don't you sleep on the couch, I'll get you a blanket and pillow." Laverne DeFazio's feet carried her swiftly over the confetti leading to her bedroom where the linen closet lay. Hearing Lenny call out, "thanks, Laverne!" she looked back over her shoulder on her way. She found a warm, happy-dog smile on Lenny's face. It made both him look and her feel like they were kids again. He was doing okay after their talk, she thought.

As she went into the bedroom, in spite of the cranky scuffling of Shirley tossing around turning in her sleep, Laverne couldn't stop feeling a sort of warm buzz. Like when you drink a little too much too fast or you have a near miss with bumping into someone attractive. _Attractive_ , she thought, and Lenny's smile still lingered as she gathered the green army blanket in her arms to take back to the living room, then snatched the spare pillow from the top shelf.

"Thanks for helping me out, too," he spoke as she came back with the bedding in hand.

Blushing, she replied, "aw that's okay, here you go," as his arm not carrying his guitar came out to take the pillow and blanket. In a moment of bravery and honesty, he added onto his gratitude. "You talk real good." It was fleeting, as his head turned downward, showing he meant it real deeply. That got Laverne grinning ear to ear as she waved a dismissive, shy hand. "Nahh."

"Yeah," he said.

"Well, you don't talk half-bad yourself, especially when you don't spit," she replied, meaning it. A tightening of his mouth and folding of his lips showed him quickly correcting his salivatin' mouth. This was the kinda guy who listened to a girl, way more than any other Laverne had known. 

She put an arm on him, feeling the warmth under his Lone Wolf jacket, and said with purpose, "you're a real sweet guy, Len, don't you forget that. Okay?" He was nodding, looking ahead of him as she stood by his side. Then as she reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek goodnight, his head moved and there his lips were instead of just his face.

The smallest of gasps escaped Laverne's mouth, as an electric sensation ran through her. Static charge, she wondered? No, only the feeling of Lenny's lips. He was warm, just the right amount of wet, and the exhale felt on her face was alive, soothing. When she pulled back, he was looking at her with an open passion. Okay, that was nice, she thought, he's gotten better in the last couple of years. A lot better.

It took a little effort to get a renewed flush to clear from her face, grin-blushing as she said, "Len... Len, Len-!" Sheepish suddenly, he giggled, "sorry." 

"That ain't a kiss to be sorry about," she said. "Now, let's get you set up here, ok?" She gestured to the couch and he turned back toward it.

The pillow dropped to bounce around the cushions, which Laverne straightened quickly, then the blanket just flopped out of Lenny's hands on top, his one hand spreading it in a sloppy drag across it. The messiness, a return to normal Lenny, should have helped with making the strange feeling in Laverne go down, but it only seemed to make her want to go "awww" and pat his head. What the heck was wrong with her? Just the sound of his little breath, a little sigh as he sat down, made her feel warm. And so she sat down next to him, rationalizing to herself a second later that she didn't feel like going to bed yet. That she was so close to him on the couch, even as he clumsily took off his shoes, was unconscious.

"Thanks again, Laverne," Lenny said, after he'd finished grunting his way out of his socks and putting them neatly next to his boots. That he didn't chuck them somewhere was a surprise to her. "You're welcome," she replied, feeling a warmth rise in her chest as he smiled at her again. It was that easy-going late night feeling. She didn't feel like going to bed yet. Or rather, she didn't feel like sleeping.

He blushed, grinning, then said, "this is kinda fun, y'know. Staying over. Like a sleepover when we're kids." Their eyes met.

"Yeah, but we're not kids anymore."

"That's true. What do grown-ups do on sleepovers anyway?" Laverne realized she'd never thought of that. There was the obvious... but this wasn't an obvious situation. So, she thought about it. "I guess they talk?"

"About what?" Lenny asked, blinking. He was listening to her again, wanting to see what she'd say. She smiled. "Well, I guess things they don't get to talk about all the time. Like, uhh..." she searched her memory, looking for a clue or something to set her up. It took a while before she confidently stated, "Like how I don't think it's fair how Squiggy treats you sometimes." A meek shrug from Lenny.

"Sometimes I deserve it," he said, "I'm always in somebody's way." He put his hand along the neck of his guitar and brought it to his lap. "It's why it's better I'm the lone wolf. Nobody hurts me, I don't hurt nobody." He strummed a chord, only for Laverne to instinctively grab his hand to stop the sound. Shirley was still trying to sleep. But her touch stayed there. "You don't hurt me," she said, trying to ignore the times he had. Then she had to ask, "do I hurt you?"

A little shrug. "Sometimes."

Her fingertips pulled from his hand, so that her own hands could land in her lap. The room got awful quiet and she noticed it was darker in there with one of the street lights outside the window gone out. They'd fallen into a room of shadows, where secrets are told and sometimes even made.  
"I forgive you, Len. You've done a lot of dumb stuff-" He tightened a gasp and she clarified quickly, "-but we all do. I do. I'm the biggest dummy, and I hate it, how people look at me that way. And if I wanna be forgiven, I gotta forgive other people sometimes, too. Besides, you've done a lotta good stuff, too."

"Then how come I'm always alone?"

How the hell had they fallen into this, she wondered. Her breathing was picking up and some desire had been sparked that she was scared to let take over. Even in the dim light, she could see his hands flexing across the guitar, the way his lips parted but feeble, like that little boy she imagined had realized his mama wasn't going to come back on his birthday, or any other birthday. Life wasn't kind to this man and yet, she realized, he was the fun, sincere, kinda fella who kissed good enough and took care of the people he loved. It wasn't fair. But-

"You're not alone now," she finally answered.

Then the silence again. Down the street a car horn honked and someone yelled 'hey pussy!' to someone walking by. Lenny chuckled. Laverne smirked. Another rumble, a truck passing by the apartment. There was no disquieting edge that said they had to say something. They could breathe and sigh and clear their throat, without any judgment or fear. Even the sounds of plumbing in the tenements above them did nothing to deter the sweet feeling of just being there together. The walls of social defense had come down brick by brick as the minutes ticked on and they stayed up later, and later, until they had eased into a comfortable space together.

"I never feel alone with you," he at last said. There was a shudder in the way he said it, that spoke to a choked up feeling in his throat. When she turned to face him, and he turned to face her, she saw just the slightest hint of a wetness in his eyes. "Aw, Len."

Lenny smiled back at her, filling Laverne with an intoxicatingly sweet feeling to have someone whose intentions had become so pure and genuine to do so. Part of her knew she had to get out of there, otherwise things were going to start moving. They already were, if she was being honest, but sometimes in the darkness one has to have even their own secrets from themselves.

"Now, c'mon, put the guitar down and let's get you tucked in." Even as she said it, there was a soft voice in the shadows telling her, _you ain't going to bed yet, Laverne._

He nodded and put the guitar against the coffee table. But Lenny's efforts to move the blanket were hindered by Laverne still being right there on the couch by his side. "Uh, Laverne? I can't move the blanket." He gave it another tug, then another.

Before Laverne even realized she was moving, her hands were on his jacket, feeling the material, then her arms wrapped around to feel the L she'd sewn into it just for him. Blindly she whispered into the dark, "why is it you're good to me and then you're not?" Lenny gasped at the way she said it, not like just-a-friend. Did she want a guy who would go to baseball games, monster movies, and concerts with her? Maybe she'd like the song he was writing about her after all, that nervous creative voice in his head muttered.

But, Lenny wasn't sure he had an answer for her. That year alone had been a whirlwind for them, between he and Squiggy taking advantage of Shirley's fugue state, to when Lenny had to clock Squig when he tried to get him to go along with allowing a bully at work to "have his way" with Laverne, and then there was the whole thing with Laverne and her long-gone mother. He didn't know if he had an answer for her question, given how he thought the world of her and then some, how he had realized that night that she was the greatest thing in his life, and yet yeah... he was a big dope some times.

"I don't always know what's best and sometimes I get confused easy," he said as honestly as he could. The sound of his voice was loud in the quiet that rang above the distant traffic noise and sneakers skitching past the window on the sidewalk. He pulled a stretched, awkward arm around her and held her in his own way, sideways and a little crooked, but a way that was him. Her head laid to rest on his shoulder. "I hate myself every time I hurt you, Laverne. Sometimes I wanna die when I realize what I've done." 

Her fingers gripped him through the jacket. "Don't you dare." She thought of all the times he'd actually, genuinely, been there for her. There'd been the little things; borrowing an eraser in middle school or asking for another person to play softball with. The laundry once a week or so and shopping runs when Shirley was being fussy or had to talk to her mother on the phone. Lenny (and yes, even Squiggy) had helped Laverne and Shirley so many times. He'd even forgiven her anger and come to understand her feelings about her mother's passing... he'd been so sweet that day. Then there was the moment that came to mind and she clung even tighter. _No, I won,_ he'd said, about a coin toss. He wanted to help her when they all thought she was in trouble, real trouble, that could ruin her reputation and outcast her, and a possible child, for life. 

"I promise I won't ever hurt you again," he said, a shuddering desperation. This was good, he didn't want the moment to end. If only time could be saved in a bottle, like a good shirt, and you toss it in the fridge for your best days. 

She shook her head into him. He was so warm and the night was getting chillier even for summer. "Don't make a promise you can't keep, Len."

Lenny hated that she was right. He'd promised himself he'd never hurt her a million times. Somehow, he let her down eventually. "So, what can I do?"

Her face came up to his and kissed him, lips full and giving. "You love me, don't you." A statement, hot across his face, that lingered. The feeling of her fingers on his back was like being caught in a snare that he never wanted to leave. He nodded, looking into her eyes with as much open honesty as one has in the late hours of the night.

To that reply, Laverne made her move. She pulled his jacket off his shoulders and shucked it haphazardly onto the floor. Lenny only helped, confused, surprised, elated, turned on. Her fingers were scorching as they pulled his green-collared white shirt up out of his jeans, then a with a floop the cloth was off his body, leaving him topless. Tingles ran up his body as Laverne kissed his lips then down, while her hands undid his belt.

"We gotta be quiet," she muttered, despite their breathing sounding like the chugging of a runaway train heading due west. The image of it in her mind was the feeling she had, due west until the ocean, diving into the pacific. This was crazy, she thought, but hearing him open up, allowing herself the same feeling, and it finally felt like she was taking the leap she needed to.

For his part, he was on cloud nine with the girl of his dreams (and fantasies), undressing him. The only thing better would be if he was undressing her. He may be a bit of a dummy, but he got the idea, and started unbuttoning her plaid shirt. She sighed when his fingers pressed around the shape of her breasts under her bra, kissed him again. He had to ask, confused, "what are you doin', Laverne?" She was busy grunting her way to tugging down his pants and boxers in one movement, freeing his manhood from its confines. It throbbed as she peeked down at it, making her grin, then smile warmly at him.

"What I wanted to do the moment you said you liked me and wanted me to marry you." Then her lips were on his face, his neck, his fingers, and she crawled into his lap so he could more easily undress her. It wasn't entirely true, she knew, but lost in the moment she wanted it to be. She'd thought about it, marrying Lenny Kosnowski and taking his name, realizing it wouldn't have been a bad idea if she could get him to clean up. Years later, in her apartment, on her couch, late one night after a heart-to-heart talk, he'd cleaned up real good.

Laverne's plaid shirt landed somewhere near his Lone Wolf jacket, then it was onto the next task. He wasn't completely inexperienced, but bras were still a tricky thing for Lenny. Especially when Laverne was grinding herself on his dick and moaning into his ear to distract him. When he finally got the clasps off, she flung the cursed thing somewhere and hoped it didn't hit something that'd break. His hands came up and cupped one in each hand. She mewled into his blonde hair, whispering how she wanted him to touch her body and claim her offering. Using his thumbs to massage in circles, a finger or two to flick gently-firmly-sharply in varying ways across her nipples. She had soaked through her panties by then.

Taking a little bit more control over the situation, Lenny rolled them so she laid on her back on the couch. He finished kicking off his pants, but not before putting the condom he kept in his back pocket on the couch. Laverne was undoing her own belt, then his hands helped with her button and zipper of her black slacks. Their fingertips met and then their fingers locked, as did their eyes into one another. They were panting, from desire but also fear. One they shared, as Laverne saw that look in Lenny's eyes. There was no going back after this. And he had to know something. "This isn't my first," she said it quick to get it over with. Maybe he'd back off, get mad, but holding it back from him would be cruel.

"I know," he said, smirking. "I don't care. It ain't my first either."

"I know," she echoed. He always said he'd had witnesses and he did, but she never did tell him that Laverne herself had been one of them. Seeing his passion then was part of why she realized she was okay with doing him that night. That he was okay with her having already done things herself, let her relax at last, as she released his fingers and let him finish pulling her pants off. Her plain white undies were nothing sexy, but she didn't have that much lingerie anyway. But Lenny's jaw dropped all the same. She leaned back while his hands slid up her thighs, with sparks of pleasure emanating from every little nerve he touched. Just get lost in the feeling.

"You wanna be on top?" he asked gently while kissing her tummy and pulling her panties down at the same time. She responded by grabbing his hair in her hand, dragging his face up to hers, and smiling into another liplock. "Yeah... but, little more down there first, hanh?" He kissed her knee in reply. Even when it was expected, the touch of his tongue still threw her off guard, when he tasted a little sweat. A slow lick followed, then another, as he tasted up her thigh, a sweet pull that felt like he was claiming her. His hands slid beneath her legs and kneading the muscles up to her exposed butt. At once a hand flew to her mouth to keep her moans quiet.

Clearly he'd done this before, she realized, when his mouth met her muff. First a big wet kiss, then his hands coming up to blossom her. She was so wet, her body made noise when he tasted her. Out came a soft squeak from Laverne when she felt his tongue hit that little spot under her little nubbin she liked. Lenny noticed, listened, and tasted it some more. As they eased into him going down on her, part of why she silenced herself with a hand or the pillow on the couch, was she wanted to get lost in listening. The happy groans from him when her body showed its appreciation in his mouth, her hair across the fabric of her cushions, and the sounds of the public outside. This was still their getaway, cocooned deep within the rumbling city, where love bloomed.

Lenny already had her on the edge, before she felt his mouth leave for a second, then come back with a friend - his finger. He'd wet it on his mouth before he slid into her, taking her invitation seriously with a tender pleasure he gave in return. Tightness clamped on his digit, even moreso when his tongue returned to massage her sensitive womanhood. It took her so by surprise that as soon as Laverne remembered to squeeze herself on his finger to follow his rhythm, she was panting, faster, faster. He moved in turn, matching her, and it drove her up the ramp and off. Her body tightened, flexing, and she got real quiet on choked breath. Her thighs clenched around his shoulder and head. It barely deterred him as he joined her over the chasm of her orgasm, kissing her body through it. 

At last she gasped for air in shuddering breaths, cursing that the window wasn't open to give her oxygen. She released her grip on the cushions, the blanket, the pillow, and Lenny. Immediately, he climbed atop her, kissing from her tummy to her breasts, until she pushed him back and reminded him in a gentle peck at his lips, her hand around his cock stroking down to his balls, that she wanted to be on top.

They re-arranged themselves, first Lenny sitting down atop the blanket with his hard-on standing at attention. He reached over to grab the condom from the coffee table and start pulling it down over himself. Laverne meanwhile finished stripping, her flung underwear landing somewhere near the confetti that they'd put off sweeping until morning. She looked at the size of him, seeing he was about Norman's but a little thicker, and grinned as she got into position over him. He just had the reservoir tip ready when her hand took his right wrist to help her aim. Lenny's left hand came to her hip, gripped firm, to help her come down. They guided each other into bliss.

Lost in the darkness, they moved divine. Gasps and sighs were hushed with kisses, nipple tastings, a hand over the mouth in some cases. He felt every inch of her he could with his hands, the curve of her hiney which he squeezed when she bottomed out the first time, to the swell of her bosom and the roots of her hair. She got lost feeling down the sweet fuzz of his body hair, reaching down to knead his hips and thighs which flexed when he thrust into her, and even licking his practiced musician's fingers that tasted like the snacks she'd prepared for their party earlier that night.

As they drove their love deeper into the dark until the flashes of climax grew closer, their foreheads pressed together. Laverne felt so good, Shirley could come screaming into the room and she wouldn't stop. Lenny never wanted the feeling to stop.

Laverne had known Lenny had had a crush on her a long time. And she hadn't been entirely oblivious to how he'd snuck a kiss on the lips from her a little over an hour prior. But as she felt herself need to press her mouth into his hair to keep from crying out to the whole world she was coming, it finally hit her that she had a crush, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and the awkward ensues.

When a truck passed by too loud and heavy, Shirley Feeney finally woke up in a glurping noise of sucking in air on a dry, sticky mouth. A flit here, there, and she groaned at the realization she had returned to consciousness. She'd slept miserably, with dreams that were frustratingly smutty but she wasn't allowed a husband to do anything with, so she could only watch people make out and do things she'd only read about in Roxy books and that copy of Peyton Place the boys had found in the Pizza Bowl men's room.

In the back of her mind, she knew it was Carmine's fault. Being on Laverne's side about sending her to bed and insisting she was cranky even as he called her beautiful. Oh, but he was so gorgeous... the thought got her lost, thinking of his smile, how he looked as a sweaty shirtless mess that last time she went up to his apartment, the way they'd danced so close last time they'd gone out, and then Shirley looked into her roommate's bed to see if she could have some personal time.

Only, Laverne wasn't there in her bed. It looked like it hadn't even been slept in last night.

A good twenty seconds later, the soft padding of slippered feet was the first real sound that Shirley was aware of, then her own yawn as she grumbled. Narrative came to her of Laverne waking up early, maybe too excited about the baseball game they were going to that day, then making her bed and taking a shower early. Then, she would go to visit her father Frank down at the Pizza Bowl, like a loving daughter, maybe saying hello to a nice little Pomerian being walked by a beautiful young man. A young man who would make Laverne swoon, but whose virtue would be so pure, because of course a _wonderful_ doctor would be as noble as a knight. That man had changed Laverne's heart and moved her to be pure as snow from that day forth, only indulging in the usual smut and naughtiness when the consummation of a wedding night was to come.

All this daydreaming had distracted her. Shirley was in the kitchen by then, just in her slip and slippers, imagining how Laverne would come home and the nice doctor would be introduced to Shirley, telling her how funny she was and how good of a house she kept. Maybe his brother needed a woman like her in his life, too. Maybe he was a veternarian. Maybe he had a sweet Christian name, like Joseph or David. David Martin... Martino... David Martino Feeney. Shirley Martino Feeney. Shirley Feeney Martino?

And then as the smell of the coffee beans in the can she held hit her nose, bolstering her awareness, Shirley Feeney realized someone was on her couch.

More importantly, there was someone _familiar_ on the couch - even obscured by the green army blanket, Shirl knew that red jacket with the monogrammed L and the "one wolf" anywhere. She was in her slip. He was on the couch. _And he was also mostly naked with someone underneath him._

She may have screamed. But, she would deny how loud it actually was.

With a snort, Laverne came to in a tangle of blanket, a jacket, and Lenny's arms. He was already awake, nuzzling into her bosom with the plaid shirt she'd haphazardly thrown back on when it got chilly later in the night. Then there was the squeaking from the kitchen that got her attention.

"Lenny, what are you DOING here, and WHY are you naked and WHERE is Laverne, WHAT DID YOU DO TO LAVERNE?" 

One would think this would have come out of Shirley in a loud shout, intelligible or maybe at least so strung together you could just-about make it out. The truth of it was that it was so high-pitched, so strained, so breathy, that Lenny only stirred because he was confused. And Laverne shook the cobwebs out and scrambled because she remembered she was only wearing her shirt and socks.

Then, like a mighty warrior with little upper-body strength, Shirley charged in while wielding a hand towel. Her feeble, overwhelmed, emotionally encumbered swings smacked the towel feebly across Lenny's form under the blanket and Lone Wolf jacket that had been laid over him like a second blanket. He shifted, turned, and as soon as the green fabric slipped down enough that his bits were starting to be exposed, Shirley remembered her own state of undress then ran for cover behind the kitchen counter again, squealing.

Laverne took charge immediately, pushing Len off her and sending him off the couch onto the floor with an oof! (he'd be okay, she'd apologize later) Grabbing the blanket to hide her own womanly side, she stood up and approached her roommate with a raised, calming hand. 

"Now, Shirl, let me explain, you see - uh, Lenny was uhm, he had to stay over on account Squig kicked him out last night."

"THENWHYAREYOUNAKED?!" Shirley, this time, shouted, before clapping a hand over her mouth. Then she saw Lenny standing up, his bare pale cheeks facing her, and she hid her face. Laverne looked where Shirl had seen. "Len, you've got a full moon at the crack'a dawn, here." She pulled the jacket off the floor and handed it to him to wrap around his waist. It was a quick movement for him to stand up, put it in front of him, and face toward the kitchen.

The next time the brunette poked her head up from behind the counter, she saw her roommate and the boy who'd done so many pranks on her in high school that she'd lost count. Laverne was a smart girl, even a smutty one, yet really..."Laverne? Lenny? Really? The two of you? Together? Here? Last night? Did pigs suddenly fly?!"

Lenny, head hung in shame, nodded. Laverne, with wavering confidence, nodded also. 

Feeling her sense of self-righteousness rise, Shirley put her palms on the counter and clicked her tongue. "Well. Isn't that just something? Laverne, you've really sunk low to let Lenny Kosnowski take advantage of you." 

Fire blazed when Laverne snapped back. "He did no such thing! It was my idea, Shirl, and I can choose who I vodeo-do-do!" 

Lenny, with one hand still holding his jacket against his crotch, patted her arm. "It's okay, Laverne, you don't gotta yell at her." But she gave him a little flash of anger and he further backed down. The blush across his cheeks had spread to his pale torso. Frowning at herself, she patted his pecs sympathetically.

Then Laverne's attention was back on Shirley, her best friend in the whole wide world, who for some reason couldn't see that this was okay. That they were okay. Weren't they?

Before she could ponder that for long, or look to Lenny for support, Shirley cried out at one of the couch's throw pillows that was still on the couch.

"MY HI SAILOR PILLOW, LAVERNE!" Shirley's accusing finger pointed to the stitched letters across the throw pillow. Her face was a mix of horror and sorrow. "He used a condom!" Laverne said in a swaying move of her shoulders, pointing with her whole hand at Lenny, who beamed proudly for being smart enough to have one. "Oh," said Shirley, "well, thank God, you won't reproduce."

Just like that, Lenny was so heartbroken Laverne didn't even have to look at or hear him sigh to know it. And so, she thought faster than she probably should have before having coffee. Then, maybe she wouldn't have dropped the sarcasm bomb so hard on the room. "What're you talking about? We're gonna have two kids." Both the man who'd given her so much joy the night before and her still-probably-cranky best friend in the whole wide world were agog at her. With a little luck, Len would pick up on the joke.

Luckily, his lips curled into a smile, eyes full of delight, his body standing straighter with cocksure confidence. "A boy and a girl?" Laverne grinned at him at a side angle, blinking at him. "Yeah, that way we each get one."

"That's good, I like that."

The roommate, who they were trying to convince, did not like that. Her features scrunched up, eyes wide, and she did her absolute best to smile. The result could be called a smile, if the concept of one was stretched. So much effort to hold back was terrifying in itself. Yet there was also a look in Shirley's eyes that Laverne having done this scared her, deeply, and that being upset was the cranky-flavored coating of a very dangerous stick of dynamite named Anxiety. 

"Leonard?" Shirley said in tight words. "Could you go and get dressed in the bathroom while Laverne and I talk for a minute?"

While Lenny wasn't the brightest bulb, he'd been around a lot of angry people and been yelled at a lot. So he nodded, not meekly but not confidently, and gathered his clothes. Shirley squeaked and shielded both eyes when just a bit of his butt and the flop of his scrotum were visible to her. He flashed Shirl a smirk when she peeked, causing her to duck all the way down. Laverne couldn't help but giggle a little as his naked butt went running for the bathroom door.

When it was shut, Laverne grabbed her underwear, slipped the panties up her legs, and came over to Shirley in the kitchen. "Look, Shirl, I know you're worried about me, I love you, too, but-"

"How did it happen?" The reply cut her off, as Shirley stood firm leaning on the kitchen counter. 

"Well, last night, you shoulda seen Lenny, he was pretty broken up when Squiggy sent him to sleep in the gutter so he could get lucky with his date. He was calling himself weird-lookin', Shirl! Lenny!" Laverne sat down at the kitchen table, regretting it immediately with how chilly the seat felt. Despite her empathic storytelling, Shirley was unconvinced. "Laverne, his mouth is always hanging open. Remember that one summer in high school when he swallowed four flies at lunch period? Not to mention his hair, it's so... _greasy_."

Laverne frowned. "It's better than it used to be."

A shudder ran through Shirley. "So, you gave your body to him out of pity?"

"I did no such thing!" Laverne hit her palms on the table as she stood up at the very thought in complete dissent. When her roommate's face still was skeptical in return, it softened her back into sitting down. "We talked about girls and how he's gotta be with somebody who's into the same kinda stuff he is. And he listed all the things he likes and I told him, well, I like those things."

Shirley nodded, looking off to the side. "That is true, you do like a lot of weird boy things. But, that doesn't mean Lenny's the one for you, either."

"And he's been good to me. He's been there at times I didn't realize I needed him."

"How about when he's not?" Shirley asked, her tone of voice reminding Laverne of a woman who liked to go by the name Barb despite it not being her actual name. The fact that this was turning into another situation where Shirley was playing mother-hen was getting old, the kind of old that made Laverne's blood boil. She was trying to explain this at all just to help Shirley not feel so hurt, now it felt like it was turning all around back on her.

"You think that's all him?" Laverne asked. "How about the times that you pick on me, hanh? And I ain't so peachy-keen. We all make mistakes."

Shirley left the stability of the counter to move in on the kitchen table and sit down, eyes back up to full intensity and her tone of voice terse. "La-verne, he's tried to mash you mul-ti-ple times! And I know you think he's changed, and I know he can be pathetic. But you're better than this."

"You're starting to sound a lot like your mother when you talk like that," Laverne said point blank, her own expression going stone-cold despite her own fiercesome gaze.

Shirley slammed her hand on the counter.

"Laverne, you have a crush!"

And it was that moment the door opened and the dressed Lenny was on his way out. He grabbed his guitar from the coffee table so fast it almost got strummed in the process. Judging from the way he averted looking at either of them, until he couldn't bear to anymore, he'd heard most of their conversation. Laverne wondered what he thought, how he was feeling. Was he okay? Were they okay? 

The softness in his silent plea, the 'don't leave me, come back' that came down his face to his slumped shoulders, said they were okay. Sort of. But, he'd been left before and thought this was the beginning of a familiar story. And as he said, "I uh, better make sure Squig ain't too worried about me" - his voice was cracking. The story Lenny had told Laverne about his fifth birthday came flying back into her mind like a pesky fly that wouldn't leave out an open window, buzzing around in a disquieting spin. Then the door shut behind him and he was gone.

"So what if I do?" Laverne's throat tightened and dry heaving sobs were on their way. She needed a shower, to get dressed; maybe just find something resembling the ground to put beneath her feet. "I know pop's gonna be angry at me and you're angry at me and maybe I did make a mistake, but I ain't going to tell nobody I'm sorry about it. We were careful, he was sweet, and I was satisfied... until... " Tears fell down her cheeks before she realized she was crying.

At last, the shame that sometimes followed her anger came, and Shirley Feeney watched her friend break down. She was still upset, still scared, still mad even. Yet she reached a hand out to Laverne and patted her arm. "I'm sorry, Laverne. I should have trusted you." The arm she had sought was suddenly pulled back, as the still mostly-undressed blonde got up and stormed toward the bathroom without another word.

The door slammed and Shirley was suddenly all alone.


End file.
